lovedrug

Inky blue with a dash of purple, the calm summer sky blankets the drying field of grass. Slowly— slowly the dark clouds swallow up the moon. There is not a star in the sky; the moon was the last source of light. In the pitch black night, the lone figure stands there, waiting. A swift wind stirs the air around it— warm, yet foreboding. The form shivers. It keeps waiting, staring at the moon behind the clouds. The night whispers to the lonely child— don't be afraid, it breathes. "I wish I wasn't second rate," she murmurs into the wind. "I wish I could be amazing too."